Page 14 of The Criminal

De Wispelaere looked me up and down. He missed nothing. His shrewd gaze lingered on my cheap watch, broad shoulders, and the gun holstered beneath the hem of my shirt.

“Derek Sawyer. Also from The Smith Agency.” I held out my hand.

I was surprised by the older man’s firm grasp—no nonsense.

“Alas, this is a business call then. Quinn, I’d hoped this big strapping man was your beau, and we might all enjoy a spot of tea.” His voice held a whisper of a New Orleans accent.

“Not today, Charles. Maybe next weekend I can come by. But I don’t have a beau for you to inspect.”

“The men in Miami are fools.” De Wispelaere beckoned Quinn and me farther into his domain to a collection of green velvet sofas and gestured for us to sit.

As we got settled, Quinn and De Wispelaere shared pleasantries. It was apparent Quinn would visit the man occasionally. I tried to focus on them but was still trying to catalog one-tenth of the stuff surrounding us. My eyes were exhausted trying to take it all in.

“Charles, if I were in the market for a one-of-a-kind watch and not picky about its history, do you have anyone you’d send me to?” Quinn’s question pulled my attention away from a set of jeweled monkey candlesticks.

“Watches?” He pronounced the word like it was a novel concept, like he didn’t have a very nice Cartier strapped on his pudgy wrist.

“Yes, watches. Expensive ones looking for new homes,” I added, lacing my voice with a hint of threat.

“Oh, a timepiece like that would be hard to find.” De Wispelaere crossed and recrossed his legs, showing a flash of lavender socks at his ankles. He fiddled with the knife-edge pleat in his trousers rather than look at Quinn or me.

“It would? I figured after the other night, there are a few dozen of them in Miami.” Quinn reached over the cluttered coffee table between us to unearth the same newspaper Lee had thrust at me this morning.

“Those watches. One shouldn’t speculate. Far too dangerous.” De Wispelaere’s movements were jerky as he snatched up the newspaper and refolded it to hide the headline.

“Are you sure?” I pressed the issue.

“I wouldn’t dare to venture a guess.” His fear of whoever was pulling the strings far exceeded Lee’s. He must be closer to the center of the web, where the spider’s bite was more deadly.

Abruptly, De Wispelaere stood. “I believe that was the front doorbell. A customer, you understand.”

There had been no audible chime. He was trying to get rid of us.

Quinn caught the man’s arm. “You’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” Her voice was soft and sympathetic, and she held his gaze beseechingly.

“Tell John I’m sorry.” De Wispelaere spun and entered a door marked private in the back of the shop, leaving us to find our way out, the fictitious customer forgotten.

On the street, the glare of the bright Florida afternoon sun was intense after the cave-like atmosphere of the shop. The entire experience had been like traveling down the rabbit hole with Alice.

“He’s going to fence the watches,” Quinn said after we’d walked about a dozen steps.

My gut agreed.

Chapter 6

Lee

“So,areyoulosingyour touch or your nerve? Which is it?”

Oh, fuck my life. I stopped walking, taking in an entirely unwelcome sight.

My asshole ex-husband leaning against my car was the last thing I expected to find when I left Oleander tonight. I’d expected someone from the Delgatto family to come calling, but it had been a week since the OceanBlu robbery. I’d started to hope that Jimmy wouldn’t bother—nope, no such luck. The wait was probably so Tony could trek from Jersey to Miami.

Sending my ex was Jimmy’s way of rubbing salt in old wounds.

At my side, Onyx sensed my apprehension and gave Tony a low growl. I lightly tugged the leash to keep Onyx at heel. I slid my other hand into my purse and grasped the .22 hidden in a special access pocket sewn into my Hermes bag.

Tony didn’t scare me per se, but holding him at gunpoint when he had no clue about it made the situation better.

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